


they don't love you like i love you

by tyrellis



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of Past Depression/Drug Use/Unethical Scientific Experiments, Post-Canon, Simon's past and all that entails, Warming Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3644916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrellis/pseuds/tyrellis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That scar on your back," Kieren says. "How did that happen?"</p>
<p>For the longest time, he doesn't think Simon will tell him. For the longest time, he's right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they don't love you like i love you

**Author's Note:**

> i luv simon with all my heart... i watched in the flesh on tuesday night, rewatched it on the plane to newark then denver on friday, couldn't stop thinking about that scar and kieren finding out about it and all the possibilities... idk. i'm rather worried about the dialogue, i feel like i can't quite pin either of them down D:
> 
> ya my first itf fanfic. (an apology to everyone reading my snk fics and like the 4 multi-chaps i haven't updated, life is hard and itf is incredible)
> 
> so anyway. it's very simon-centric, i luv kieren but i LUV simon so yes i'm aware it's very much abt simon and kieren's doubtless many worries/fears/etc don't get much of a look in. sorry luv. i do luv u.
> 
> also btw.....that ending with amy.......bs and i fully believe she comes back to life at some point
> 
> alas. title from maps by yeah yeah yeahs/glowbug/whoever, bc i am unoriginal af. i'd luv some feedback, but never feel obliged <3

Kieren sees the scar in pieces, never as a whole. Simon doesn't bring it up, so Kieren figures he shouldn't either, but he can't help wondering every time he catches a glimpse - the top when he pulls Simon's shirt a little too low when administrating the Neurotriptyline; the gaping bottom when Simon stretches his arms high in the morning as he yawns; the shadow of it when Simon wears a white shirt.

It's worrying. Simon died from an overdose, he _told_ Kieren that, showed him the evidence - but the scar on Simon's bad is long and wide and, from the little evidence Kieren has gathered, stapled together; clearly inflicted after Simon had risen.

Kieren can't imagine who did it to him, or why, or what it means... When Kieren thinks too long on it, he realises he doesn't actually know a lot about Simon, and the years he spent between rising and coming to Roarton. Simon may have given him reason to doubt in the past but _Christ_ , he saved Kieren's life. Jumped in front of a bullet for him.

When Kieren brought it up in gratitude, Simon had looked away, had shook his head, then told him he shouldn't thank him. It's like when he claimed Amy's death was his guilt, at the funeral reception. Kieren insisted it wasn't, and Simon had given in, but he hadn't believed it.

He never does, no matter how often Kieren tells him.

Kieren can focus on Simon's problems, now. The past three months have been bizarre - trying to fix the gaping hole Amy left in his life has been difficult, but he's managed by, somehow. Visits her grave lots. Talks to Philip. Makes sure Jem's getting on well with her therapist, and trying to help her himself. Spending time with Simon in the bungalow, trying to make it seem more like home and less like their dead best friend's place.

Then the whole... _warming up_ thing. Kieren didn't know what to make of it, when his hands started shaking and his nose started bleeding and the way his body began reacting to the Neurotriptyline. He was terrified, honestly. Stared at his shaking hands and wondered if he was turning rabid. It took talking to Philip, who said Amy had gone through a similar process, to realise he was becoming human again. He started to feel cold, all the bloody time - ended up nicking half of Simon's jumpers to keep warm. He'd feel hungry, and began eating again at the dinner table, much to tears of happiness from his family. He _felt_ things again, in general - the wind, the rain, Simon's cold hands and Jem's warm ones, the itch of a woolly scarf against his neck. It had all been so much, at first, he could barely catch his breath.

Simon looked at him like he couldn't believe Kieren was real. He made him tea, bought him jumpers and hats and scarves, recoiled in the night because he thought Kieren wouldn't wanted to be held by someone so cold - smiled, just a little, when Kieren told him that he was being daft.

Now that the dust has settled somewhat around Kieren being human now, he's had a little more time to think about Simon. Well. Worry, really. About why he was so keen to run off after Amy's funeral, and where he went those three days in December, and how he's coping with being branded a traitor by the ULA. Kieren doesn't know why they're so surprised, really - they _did_ call Simon the twelfth disciple. That was bound to bring about a bit of betrayal.

And then there's the scar. Kieren doesn't know how to bring it up - _hey, Simon, I see that massive scar/wound/thing on your back so I just wanted to know how that happened, really. And why you never mention it. And who did it._

Yeah, right. Simon's gone quiet for lesser than that. Kieren once asked how he felt about warming up - about if _he_ warmed up - and Simon had gotten so still and so quiet Kieren never brought it up again. He doesn't want the conundrum of the scar to be like that. He wants to _talk_ about it. He wants to help.

Kieren wishes he knew how.

\--

The opportunity presents itself far sooner than Kieren had anticipated - he'd been with his family, talking to Jem after her therapist's appointment, and dinner had ended earlier than usual because his mum was keen to watch Antiques Roadshow, so Kieren had sloped off to Amy's- well, Simon's, now - bungalow to make sure his boyfriend wasn't cooped up alone too long.

Since his...followers buggered off, Simon hasn't had many people to talk to. Kieren, and his family. Philip, sometimes. Doesn't have much of a family of his own, it seems. Doesn't have anyone, except the Walkers. Kieren doesn't even know what he spends his time doing. He doesn't redecorate, doesn't need to do human things, doesn't care much for most TV. Kieren usually comes in to find his staring off into the distance.

Kieren remembers first meeting Simon - he'd seemed so enigmatic, charismatic, with such faith in what he believed to be true. Remembers seeing him preaching to the other PDS sufferers like it was second-nature - easy talking, a movement of the hands that commanded the room, sincerity and strength in every word he spoke.

He's not like that anymore. Kieren wonders if he ever truly was.

When Kieren knocks on the bungalow's door, he gets no answer, and slips inside, locking the door behind him. No one in the living room, nor the bedroom - the shower's running, in fact, which is strange, so Kieren sits and waits.

He doesn't need to wait long. Simon appears eventually, in jeans and a towel over his shoulder, going from the bathroom to the bedroom. The scar's in plain view and- _Christ_ , it's horrible. Long and thick and black, and like the staples barely keep it together.

Kieren can't hold back his gasp of horror, and Simon can't help but hear. Simon turns to face him, to hide the scar from view - and, okay, yes, that chest is a little distracting, but - "Simon," Kieren says, "you-"

"Don't," Simon stops him, and disappears into the bedroom. He returns only seconds later, with a top on and the towel gone. "Don't," Simon repeats, but Kieren just shakes his head.

"That scar on your back," Kieren presses. "How did that happen?"

Simon shakes his head, crosses his arms, and won't look at him.

For the longest time, he doesn't think Simon will tell him. For the longest time, he's right.

\--

The doctors are called in when Kieren has warmed up, and Frankie and Connie start showing signs. They demand to assess the three of them, which Kieren has no problem with, as he'd also very much like to figure this out - but when he tells Simon about it, and that the infamous Halperin and Weston are here, in Roarton, Simon goes still.

"It's a good thing," Kieren assures him. "They'll take a look at us, figure it out, and maybe one day all the undead will finally be human again!"

"No," says Simon. He's staring past Kieren, at the walls Amy so lavishly decorated and that the two of them could never bring themselves to alter. "You can't trust them, Kieren. They won't- they won't stop until they've _fixed_ you, found the cure, they won't stop refining it, they won't stop even if they hurt you."

"Simon," Kieren says. "I get that you don't trust doctors and you don't like this whole- _warming up_ thing, but they just want a quick look, alright? They're not going to lock me up and experiment on me or anything."

Simon still won't meet his gaze. His clenched fists are so cold to touch when Kieren tries to pry his fingers apart, because he can _feel_ now, and it's incredible. Simon mutters, "You don't know that," with the weight of someone who can prove it.

"Right," Kieren says, taking Simon's hands in his own, "and you do?"

Simon won't look at him. Simon's eyes are unfocused, his fingers squeezing Kieren's. Simon's brows crease, and his lips press into a thin line.

Eventually Simon grates out, " _Yes_ ," and won't explain himself no matter how desperately Kieren pleads with him.

An hour ticks past as they sit on the sofa, hands tangled together, and Kieren says, "Look. I can't make you tell me anything you don't want to, alright - I _won't_. Whatever your problem with the doctors is... I'm sorry about what happened to cause that. But if I talk to them about warming up, they can _help_ people - help other PDS sufferers, the ones who start warming up and don't understand what's happening and get scared - we could _stop_ that. They could even figure out a cure."

Simon flinches. "There is no cure," he says. "You can't be fixed. We... _We_ can't be fixed."

"But Simon," Kieren says, "I _am_ fixed. I'm human again. Just like I used to be. And we can _all_ be human again. We _can_ be fixed."

Simon keeps shaking his head. "No," he says, "no, it doesn't work like that. We can't. We can't, we... We are the undead. The redeemed. God will wipe away all tears from their eyes, for when they shall rise from the dead, they are as angels in Heaven..."

" _No_ , Simon. Look, I need to get to this appointment, yeah? Don't worry about me."

"Let me come with you."

"...Are you sure?"

"Y-" Simon takes a deep breath. " _Yes_. Let me come with you."

Kieren stares for a second. "Yeah, alright. Come on, then."

Simon gets up. Kieren pretends he doesn't see his clenched fists, or the way they shake, or the way Simon keeps staring dead ahead. He just unfurls one of those fists, takes it tight in his own hand, and leads the way to the GP's.

\--

"They're back here," Dr Russo says when they enter, and shows them to his own office. "I know, I've been kicked out. I'll be out front if you need me." He smiles, opens the door, and lets them in.

Two doctors are sitting in armchairs, drinking tea and staring at clipboards, then glance up as Kieren and Simon enter. Dr Russo had looked a bit concerned when Simon said he was going in with Kieren, but he wasn't willing to fight about it - as it is, there are three chairs set up opposite the doctors. Kieren supposes to the two other PDS sufferers will show up sooner or later.

"Kieren Walker, I take it?" the dark-haired one asks. Kieren nods, and he continues, "I'm Victor Halperin, and this is my colleague, John Weston. If you recall, we created Neurotriptyline, the medicine that ended the war."

John Weston only nods as the two of them take their seats, then says, "Simon. We hope you are doing well."

Simon huffs through his nose, his hand so tight around Kieren's, his back so straight. "Just fine," he answers.

The doctors nod, and Simon won't look at Kieren when he glances at him.

"So, Kieren," Dr. Halperin says. "We hear that you've 'warmed up' - become human. Now, we've all heard what happened back in December with the MP and everything about the 'First Risen' - you don't think that you being the first to become human corresponds to you being the First Risen?"

Kieren squints, frowning. "That's bull- wrong," he says. "I wasn't the First Risen. At least, I don't think so. My friend- she, uh, she was killed by the MP... She became human, before me. When she died, she bled red... Her irises had changed and everything. So it's not... I'm not the one... I'm not that important."

"On the contrary," Dr Halperin counters, "you are the first living PDS sufferer to become fully human. You are _very_ important. Today, we'll only ask you a few questions, perhaps run some tests, then once we speak to the girls we might call you in for a more in-depth discussion. How does that sound?"

"That's fine," Kieren says, and looks again to Simon, to see if this has assuaged him. He doesn't appear to have even heard - he's locked in a staring contest with the other doctor, eyes narrow and lips thin, hand clutching Kieren's.

But behind the anger, the hatred Kieren can see there, there's fear. Very real fear.

The questions they ask Kieren are relatively simple to answer - can he use all five senses? Is he hungry when appropriate? Does he shower on a regular basis? Are the returning feelings overwhelming? - and then they take a sample of his blood to examine. That's all.

Well, Kieren thinks so. Then Dr. Halperin thanks Kieren for his time, and turns to Simon. "How was your re-integration into society?" he asks. "How long did you stay with your father?"

Simon's frozen next to Kieren. He wants to move closer, take his face in his hands until Simon looks at him, looks _real_ again, but not now. "Well," Simon manages, "I was there for six hours before he kicked me out."

Kieren's brows jump up his face. He didn't know that.

"I see," Dr. Halperson says. "And where did you go from there?"

Simon's eyes narrow, then wander. "The ULA. I was the twelfth disciple. They sent me here on a mission, and I failed to fulfil it. They kicked me out, too."

What mission? He knew there _was_ one, because Amy had said so in that postcard, but Kieren failed to find any evidence of an actual mission except from converting all the PDS sufferers to ULA-followers. And if that was the mission, it had been fulfilled. So it's something else.

"The twelfth disciple," Dr. Weston speaks up. "Named after the first disciple and you became the twelfth. So what are you to them? Judas, who killed their leader for sin? Or Judas, who killed their leader, which lead to even greater redemption?"

Simon stares. "Neither."

Dr. Halperin is staring, too. He directs his attention back to Simon after a moment, though, frowning. "You've had none of the symptoms of warming up, then?"

"Didn't die in Roarton, did I?"

"No," Dr. Halperin agrees.

"It would be interesting," Dr. Weston says, "as the first to respond to the medication, perhaps you will be the last to...warm up, as they say."

Another thing Kieren didn't know about Simon. _The first to respond to the medication_. He wonders what it entails - if it's the reason he's so still and angry here.

Simon doesn't reply. Dr. Weston goes on, "When you do warm up, you should visit us again. It would be...useful, to analyse your progress. You'll need professional care, too, for when the scar begins to close back up."

So the doctors know about the scar. The second they mention it, Simon grips Kieren's hand so hard it hurts.

"No," Simon says. " _No._ "

"We won't take any intrusive tests," Dr. Halperin jumps in. "Or any experiments this time. Just to keep an eye on you, and the scar."

"No," Simon manages through gritted teeth. "No, I'm not going back there. I'm not going back to you."

"We only have your best interests at heart-"

" _No_." And then he says, "Get out. Leave. You can't- I won't let you- perform these _tests_ on us- I'm not letting you hurt them. I won't let you take them away from here."

"We already said," Dr. Halperin assures him, "that we'll only run blood tests and have some discussion-"

" _No_ ," Simon insists. "You lied before and you lied again-"

"You can _trust_ us-"

"No! I can't!"

"Then tell us what we have done to cause this distrust."

Simon breathes heavily as Dr. Weston stares and stares. Kieren's take Simon's hand in both of his own, stroking it, trying to remind Simon he's here, beside him, but Simon doesn't seem to realise.

"You didn't stop," Simon whispers.

"What?"

"I told you to stop and you _didn't stop_."

"When was this? At what point-"

"At what point?" Simon roars, and Kieren's eyes widen, watching as the doctors remain calm but Simon looks like he'll jump to his feet at any second - like he'll _run_. "At what- how about the point when you were tearing my back apart with your little fucking _experiments_ and I _told_ you I didn't want to do it anymore and you _didn't listen_. How about _that_ point, John? Victor?"

"Simon," Kieren whispers. "Simon, oh my god."

"You changed the world," Dr. Weston says. "You stopped the war. You saved countless numbers of people by allowing us to-"

"But nothing _came_ of it! Once the chemicals worked on me, nothing else was necessary! The rest of it was- _bullshit_!"

"You're the one who wanted to be fixed, Simon."

Simon has no reply. He lurches to his feet, and Kieren almost topples over following him, and Simon doesn't even seem to realise he's dragging Kieren along until they're outside.

"Kieren," he says, and he stops.

"Simon," he replies, " _please_ tell me what's going on."

Simon finally loosens his grip a little. His eyes flick to the side, the ground, Kieren's eyes, and away again.

Then he takes a deep breath, looks Kieren in the eyes, and says, "Okay. Okay. Just-"

"Back at the bungalow," Kieren says, frowning and trying to see if Simon's alright by looking at every part of him. "Yeah."

\--

Simon paces and paces and paces for what feels like hours. Kieren wants to stop him - dammit, Kieren wants an _explanation_ for whatever the fuck just happened - but the way Simon keeps clenching and unclenching his fingers and dragging them through his hair and down his face, like he wants to tear his own skin off-

Well, Kieren feels that one wrong touch, one wrong word will trigger a downward spiral he won't be able to stop. He's said enough bad things already - keeps thinking about that comment he made about not getting caged up and experimented on, and cringes violently. He wants to _understand_ \- the importance of Simon being the first to respond to medication, the experiments, the fact that the doctors didn't stop when Simon asked, the fact that the _doctors_ caused that horrible scar on Simon's back, that Simon was kicked out of his own house after a matter of hours.

Kieren thought his situation was bad, Christ. He wonders if Amy knew. He doubts it, actually. Doubts Simon told anyone. Imagines he kept it to himself over all this time, stayed silent and hid his back and told PDS sufferers to stay away from doctors, from Norfolk, to any living person who claimed to help them.

Simon stops pacing eventually. He stares at his own hands, like he's trying to decide how much blood is on them, and finally looks to Kieren.

"Simon," is all he can say. " _Simon_."

"It's my fault," Simon says, and collapses on the sofa next to him. "It's my fault, it's my fault, it's my-"

"Simon," Kieren murmurs, eyes wide as he takes his hand, " _no_ , it's not, you can't... You can't honestly believe..."

"They told me," he says, stumbling over the words, "t-told me I was the first, told me I could help them, help everyone... I said...'what do I have to do'... They told me they'd run experiments- I said _yes_."

Kieren stares for a moment - Simon's distraught eyes, the thinness of his lips, his shaking hands - then says, "But- you said in the GP's office, you told them to stop - Simon, _they're_ the ones in the wrong. They clearly violated your consent, they- Simon. Simon, _listen_ to me."

As Kieren had been speaking, Simon had just been shaking his head, over and over again.

"You don't understand," he says. "You don't know-"

"Know _what_?"

"What happened. What I've..."

"What you've done? Does it matter? Simon, they- that scar on your back- it's-"

"I asked for it," Simon mutters. "It's my-"

"It's _not_ your fault," Kieren sighs, lifting his spare hand to cradle Simon's face. "Why do you think this?"

"It's the _truth_."

"Maybe to you," Kieren says, weighing his words carefully, "but to me - to anyone else - it was the doctors' fault. They took _advantage_ of you. They ignored you when you asked for it to stop. That's not a weakness of yours, Simon - that's their own...brutality."

Simon's breath catches, and he shuts his eyes.

"You don't need to believe me now," Kieren says. "But just... _talk_ to me."

And Simon does. It takes time - well into the night, in fact, Simon sitting on the sofa whilst Kieren makes himself dinner, wrapping the two of them up in a blanket as it gets colder, holding hands, wrapping arms around each other, tracing the lines of each other's faces...

Listening to Simon's story is...difficult. He takes it back to his youth, to the depression and the drugs...then his death. He struggles so hard to say the words - to tell Kieren that, in his untreated state, he killed his own mother. For five minutes after he's shaking and panting and saying _my fault my fault_ and Kieren can only hold him.

The rest isn't any better. Waking in the treatment centre, by the doctors, and _God_ Simon's hatred and distrust for doctors makes far more sense now, is so clearly rooted in experience that Kieren feels sick. Simon's vague about the experiments, and Kieren's sure it's because he must have been unconscious or near abouts during them - they still sound awful, though, so horrible, and when Simon talks about the Undead Prophet speaking to him he can almost understand why Simon ran to him.

Then Simon tells him about his father, about realising what he'd done, and the few hours of sleep he'd gotten before being driven out his home.

"The ULA...accepted me," Simon says. "They treated me like a brother, listened to me, followed me as the Twelfth Disciple... I wasn't just important; I was _necessary_. Maybe a lot of what they said was bullshit, but...at the time, it was faith. It was all I had."

"I know," Kieren says. "I'm sorry it all ended up so...shit."

"Got you, though," Simon says, a little like he can't believe it. "'S worth it."

"I'm not sure about that."

"Kieren," Simon murmurs, eyes softer now they're focused on Kieren instead of staring at the wall, "you're worth the world. More."

Kieren doesn't try to dissuade him again. Instead, he says, "So are you."

One day, he hopes Simon will believe it.

**Author's Note:**

> <3 find me at tyrellis on tumblr, crying and saying 'lmao' unironically after everything i say. if u enjoyed, pls drop a line <3
> 
> also pls say something if u think i should add something more in the tags, idk if i covered everything :^)


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